


Her Family, Complete

by SassySarah



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arya-centric, Beta Read, F/M, HEA, I'm sorry for the summary and title, POV Arya Stark, all about Arya, and her feelings, and talking about Gendry with her other favorite people, literally just Arya talking to Gendry, no major deaths this is my fantasy, room for continuation, show verse, so much dialogue, sorry Bran you're not really needed here, vague on plot, way more than I usually write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 19:16:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18597718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassySarah/pseuds/SassySarah
Summary: Gendry comes to Winterfell, and Arya has feelings.





	Her Family, Complete

**Author's Note:**

> So this whole thing got a lot longer than I intended, and was born entirely from one scene that I thought of that wouldn't leave me alone. I was writing before S.8 started, so there's a fair amount of differences but I feel like it's close enough lol I've loved Arya/Gendry for years, but this is my first time writing them. Hope you enjoy!

It was growing late, and Arya slipped into the forge unnoticed. She leaned against a large beam, half in shadow, to watch him work. Seeing him work for the first time was a vivid memory for her, and she had imagined him here so many times it almost didn’t feel real now. The dragonglass piled in every available space reminded her she wasn’t dreaming again, that he was really here, at home in Winterfell with her. Except, he wasn’t really with her. Gendry hadn’t come home with her, hadn’t chosen her. So why was he here? How? 

She’d thought he was dead, had worried over it until she couldn’t anymore. She was furious with him, even thinking him dead, and she didn’t feel any less furious, but there was so much more now and Arya wasn’t quite sure what to do with it all. She wanted him to be her family, and she’d added the red witch to her list because of him, but she didn’t know what to do anymore. Even coming here to watch him felt like a risk. She didn’t know if she wanted him to turn and see her or if she wanted to steal away before he could. 

She was so happy to see Jon when he came home, so happy to be wrapped up in one of his big hugs that she almost missed who was accompanying him. Of course she knew the Dragon Queen and her entourage were coming with Jon, and Sansa had told her of the men Jon had taken with him, but his note had said nothing of a stupid blacksmith, and why should it? Still, she wished she could have prepared herself to see him again. When she got a good look and realized who it was she was looking at, he’d been looking right back at her. He looked at her like he’d been waiting to, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to. She had turned away from him, refused to look at him again. That was two days ago. But here she stood, watching him methodically pound at the iron and glass. She saw him finishing up, knew he would turn in a moment and she had time enough to slip away still unnoticed, but she didn’t move. 

Gendry visibly started, his chest jumping and hand clenching tighter around the half-finished weapon. He took in a deep breath and opened his mouth, but he closed it right after and just looked down. He seemed to twitch a bit and then went to set the spear tip with some others. 

“You really aren’t going to say anything?” 

He looked back at her like he couldn’t help it, then down again. “You’re much quieter than you used to be, m’lady.” 

“Don’t do that.” 

“What?” 

“You know, you stupid bull!” 

For whatever reason he seemed happy at that, and then sad, or maybe weary. It reminded her of the face she made when scolding herself. He shrugged, like he was throwing something off his shoulders, and finally held her gaze. 

“You’re a Lady of this House, a Princess, even. I can’t be calling you Arry.” 

“So call me Arya.”

“I can’t do that either, m’lady.” 

She wanted to yell at him, push him and stomp her feet like she’d done when they were younger. But she wasn’t a little girl anymore. She took a breath and held it for a moment. Arya suddenly felt very tired. 

“So you’re refusing me? You can’t give me this?” 

Gendry seemed surprised, like she had startled him again. His fingers twitched. “I’m not - that’s not - no. No.”

“No, you aren’t refusing me? Or no, you’ll continue to be stupid?” 

He ran his hands over his face and then dropped them back down. He looked determined, and Arya wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. 

“No, I’m not refusing you. I won’t, ever. Not again.” 

Arya wanted to look away from him, but she couldn’t. What was that supposed to mean? She didn’t know what to do. She was saved by the ringing of supper bell. Gendry’s focus broke, and she closed her eyes for a moment to collect herself. She needed to leave. Stepping away from the beam, she turned smoothly and walked toward the door. She was just reaching for the handle when she heard him. 

“Arya, wait, please.” 

She turned back to him, but didn’t speak. She didn’t know what she wanted to say. 

“I was hoping - I wanted - wanted to tell you some things. Talk to you.”

“I need to be at supper.” Tonight was the first night Daenerys was going to be joining them in the hall, and she needed to be there. “We can talk later.” She didn’t wait for his reply before turning once more and slipping out of the door. 

——————————————— 

The next day Arya woke early. Sleep had not come easy to her and she was in a foul mood and knew it. She was surprised to see Jon coming back from the godswood, but she knew he’d had a lot to think on lately. Stark blood ran through his veins but if his father hadn’t died, he would have carried a different name, a different house. He still could, she supposed. No one had missed the way his eyes had lingered on the Dragon Queen, and though she’d been better about, Arya had seen Daenerys watching him as well. She wondered if that would change when she found out that Jon had a stronger claim to the throne. Regardless, he would always be her brother, and she just wanted Jon happy. He deserved that. Jon spotted where she was perched and smiled at the sight of her, Needle still at her side. Moments later, he joined her. 

“You’re up early. Talking to the gods?” 

He shrugged. “Not really. I think they’ve done all they can for me. Just… remembering. I went down to the crypt yesterday… it’s strange to think she’s been so close my whole life. I used to wonder about her.” 

“Father should have told you.” 

“Aye, but we can’t change the past, and we have more important things to worry about now.” He turned to her, one hand still on the railing. “Where’d you disappear to before supper last night? Sansa was looking for you, wanted you in a dress for the meal with the Queen.”

Arya snorted, then shook her head. “She should know better by now…. I was checking up on someone.”

“You think someone I brought with me is a threat?” 

“No, not like that.” 

“Then what? I know you can take care of yourself, Arya, and others.” Jon hadn’t been enthusiastic about the discovery of her training under the Faceless Men, but he’d accepted it with less fear than Sansa had. She wondered if Gendry would still look at her the same way, if he’d be able to see her as Arya with just another skill, like Jon did, or if he’d be afraid. It unsettled her how much she didn’t want him to be afraid of her. “But we’re - I’m here for you, if you ever need me.” 

She sighed. “I know that, Jon. Nothing is wrong.” Damn that stupid bullheaded man! He hadn’t mentioned her once to Jon, had he? “Where did you find the blacksmith?” 

Jon’s eyebrows shot up. “Gendry? Arya, he’s a good man. I trust him.” He was frowning now. 

“I know.” She glared and looked out, facing the rail again. 

“Then why check up on him?” 

“He’s alright, I didn’t mean it like that.” Without looking at him, she felt his frown deepen in his growing confusion. She supposed she couldn’t keep it to herself forever. And this was Jon. “I knew him. We traveled together, after Father - after.” She turned just enough to see his face. 

Jon was clearly surprised and Arya could see him trying to put the pieces together. “Oh. Well, that’s… did you travel long with him? He never said.” 

“Long enough.” She shrugged and tried not to feel bitter, tried not to think about the way Jon was looking at her now. “The brotherhood sold him to that red witch. I thought he was dead. She’s on my list.” 

“Yes. Davos helped him escape Stannis and the red woman and he went back to smithing in Flea Bottom. And then found his way to me. He’s… do you know he’s —“ 

“What?” 

“Maybe he should tell you. Don’t you want to talk to him about it? It’s been years since you’ve seen each other, he could tell you more than I. You can’t have talked long yesterday evening.” 

“Well, no, but —“ 

“And I’m sure he’d like to know your story as well, since you’ve been apart.” 

“That’s not -“ Arya sighed in frustration. “I’ll talk to him when I want to.” 

Jon was looking at her in a way she wasn’t sure she liked. “Alright. Of course.” He side-stepped closer to put his arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her in to lay a kiss on her forehead. “I’m glad you have your friend back, little one.” He released her, stepping away. “Now, I’m sure plenty of people are looking for me. Will you be at the morning meeting?” 

She nodded and slipped away, gracefully descending the stairs. She felt like training for a bit before the arguing began again. 

————————— 

Two days later, she found herself slipping into the forge once more. The wind had picked up after the midday meal, and this time Gendry must have felt the rush of cold. He turned immediately, pausing his heavy blows. His eyebrows raised, and he spoke. 

“Just let me finish this one?” 

Arya nodded in response and he turned back to his fire in a new hurry. Supper was an hour away yet, she’d trained all morning, and though she was restless, she didn’t mind waiting while watching him work. She’d talked herself out of coming here five times over the course of the last few days, and now that she had, she wasn’t about to leave because he was working. Doing his job. For her brother, her family. She wanted to ask about that, wanted to know why. He didn’t want to come home with her, but he’d followed Jon? As happy as she was to have him alive, she couldn’t help but still be angry. She’d been angry for so long.

He was bigger, broader across the shoulders and arms heavier with muscle than they had been. She wondered why he’d cut his hair so close. Arya enjoyed watching him work before, and that hadn’t changed. She felt warm from the inside out when Gendry settled his hammer and turned, crossing to set the dagger to rest away from the fire. He looked to her, sitting on one of the stone ledges, feet dangling still, and smiled. 

“Hello.” 

She felt her face twitching with the want to smile back at him, but she didn’t. His own smile faded some and he leaned back against the wall, making no move to get closer to her. 

“Why didn’t you tell Jon about me?” It bothered her how much that bothered her, that he hadn’t said a word to her brother. His smile fell completely at that, and he was back to looking at the ground. 

“I thought… I thought you were dead, for the longest. I heard what people said about the Red Wedding, and I didn’t… I couldn’t talk to your brother about you, tell him that I’d known you and that maybe you wouldn’t be dead if I had just stayed with you. And then when I overheard him talking, saying you were alive and here, I couldn’t think, I was so…” 

“I thought you were dead too. That the red witch killed you.” Her question went unspoken, but Gendry was looking at her again and he seemed to understand. 

“She was going to. Ser Davos helped me escape. Put me on a boat towards Kings’ Landing, and I was wet and starving but alive. It wasn’t hard to find work again. But she- she told me something, and I didn’t believe her at first, but then…” 

“What? You have to know you can’t trust a word she said, Gendry. Tell me you’re not that stupid.” She glared at him. 

“It wasn’t just her! I… She told me who my father was, and I thought she was crazy. Told her she’d made a mistake. But then my uncle told me too. There was no way he was lying, and suddenly it all made sense, why your father came to ask me questions and the gold cloaks were after me.” 

“So?” 

He sighed. “I’m… my father was Robert Baratheon. King Robert. That’s why the red witch wanted me, because I had Kings’ blood.” 

He swallowed and stated fidgeting with his hands. Arya didn’t know what to think. He was right, that certainly explained a lot. But he looked nervous, and she couldn’t figure out why. So he was a king’s bastard. She hated King Robert for ever coming to Winterfell and changing everything, but that was… Gendry didn’t have anything to do with that. 

“Alright, so you’re a highborn bastard. No wonder Cersei wanted you dead. Does the Dragon Queen know?” 

“Yeah. Ser Davos told Jon, when I left Flea Bottom to join him. He told me not to tell her, but what was the point in hiding it? I don’t want anything to do with any throne, and who would follow me anyway? She didn’t kill me, so she must believe me.” 

“And you’re still Waters? Jon or Daenerys didn’t offer you the name?” It would be a blow to Cersei, to hear that Robert’s bastard lived when all her own children were dead and Arya couldn’t help but want that. 

“I don’t really care. I don’t know how to be a lord anyway.” He looked down again, and Arya could see him chewing the inside of his cheek by the firelight. “Do you care?” 

Her hands tightened on the stone, and she snapped. “Of course not, you stupid bull. I never did. You were the one -“ She cut herself off. What did it matter now? She sighed. “Why Jon?” Why not her? 

Gendry took a deep breath, like he’d been waiting for her ask. “I thought… I didn’t want to be making weapons and armor for the Lannister’s and I thought you were gone, and it was the best I could do, to follow your brother where I should have followed you.” 

“I wasn’t asking you to follow me. I said I could be your family and you refused.” The crux of her anger, laid bare. 

“I know, but Arya -“ He pushed away from the stone, taking long steps towards her. She straightened her leg out, and he stopped just short of her foot, but looked her right in the eyes. “You have to understand - I was young, and you were years younger. And I knew, I was certain if I went with you it wouldn’t be like you said. Your Lady mother and King brother wouldn’t have wanted you hanging around a bastard blacksmith and you know it now even if you didn’t then.” He sighed. “I knew I’d never be good enough.” 

Arya looked away, turning her head toward the door. “You were good enough for me.” 

“Yeah, and I knew that. I did.” He took a step closer to her. “But if I had gone with you then, it wouldn’t have been just us anymore.” He ran his hands over his head. “I’m not saying I made the right choice. I’ve regretted it ever since, Arya. And I can’t change it...but I’m here now. Because of you. I meant it, before - I won’t refuse you again.” 

Arya dropped smoothly to the ground, not making a sound. Gendry didn’t move, just looked at her, waiting on her. He had always let her lead when they were younger. He was still plenty taller, and though he must have been freezing in the cold of the North, he was in the forge and only had a thin shirt to cover his chest. She reached a hand out, placing it over his heart. His face flushed and he looked away, moving his eyes up and over her. 

“Umm…”

“It was… easier to be angry with you than to miss you. I believe you.” She watched him swallow, the muscles in his neck moving. 

“Good.” He looked down at her, catching her eyes again. 

“Good.” She pushed at him with the hand on his chest, and he let her move past him. As she walked away, he called out after her. 

“I missed you, too, Arya.”

 

—————————

 

Arya didn’t think she’d ever had someone look at her the way Gendry looked at her. At least not when she was herself, and maybe not even then. Now that he knew he’d been forgiven, in a way, she seemed to catch him looking at her whenever they were in a room together. She knew he’d watched her before, but not like this. A part of her knew what was happening, while another whispered to her that it was too late. As soon as she told him about who she really was now, she feared he would turn away from her. That he would look at her with unrecognizing eyes. Arya wasn’t sure if she could handle that. Was it really even necessary that he knew? 

But it was out of her hands. The next time she visited him in the forge, he stopped working as soon as he saw it was her. It made Arya weary. 

“Did you really kill all those people?” 

She turned and started a slow rotation around the fire, shrugging lightly. “You’ll have to be more specific, Gendry.”

His eyes followed her. “House Frey. Littlefinger. Who knows who else?” 

“Yes.” She refused to look at him. 

“Why? How? I mean… I know you had your list, but that was… I thought…” 

“They deserved it. And I still have my list.”

“Arya… I know you’re good with a sword, I’ve seen you practice with Lady Brienne and teach others, but… you didn’t cut down a whole house with your sword.” 

“No, I didn’t.” 

Arya was still walking, still resolutely not looking at Gendry. He huffed a great sigh and she almost felt bad, but more than that, she was angry. 

“Would you look at me?” 

She didn’t. “Who told you?” They would pay. 

Gendry sighed again. “Men were talking at supper last eve. One, I don’t know his name, said how he wished King Jon would send you South, to kill the Lannister queen and be done with it.” 

Arya smiled, and she knew it probably looked wrong to him, but it didn’t matter anymore. “Oh, that’s certainly going to happen, whether I have Jon’s permission or not. I have a few names in the South I need to cross off. I was on my way there when I heard Jon and Sansa were alive and home.” 

“Arya.” 

It was stupid to be afraid, she thought, but it apparently couldn’t be helped. She finally turned to him, letting her eyes take in the unexpressed energy in his frame before meeting his eyes. 

“How? I never doubted you or your list, but I didn’t think… I don’t know what I thought.” 

“Does it bother you? That I killed all those people?” 

“No. How could it? I’ve killed people too. It’s not the same, but you’re…still you.” 

She was. She had fought so hard to be Arya Stark again. She would always be Arya, even when she wasn’t. “Do you remember Jaqen?”

Gendry’s frown deepened. “You were with him? All that time?” He sounded unhappy at the prospect. 

“No. I traveled with the Hound for a time, before robbing him and leaving him to die, and then I found Jaqen again. But I was never really with him. I was at the House of Black and White, training to be a Faceless Man.”

“But they’re… the stories I’ve heard, they’re nothing good.”

“You’re right. For a time, I tried to be No One, like they wanted me to be, but I was and always will be Arya Stark of Winterfell. So I left.”

“But…” Gendry inclined his head, waiting, watching her. She hadn’t answered his real question yet. 

“But I stayed long enough to learn some things…” Arya turned and let her fingers play with a stash of arrowheads. “I can do what they do, become someone else for a time. I just decided I would decide who I kill and who I don’t, not them.”

“So… the faces, that’s…”

“True, yes. I have a little collection.” She took a deep breath and looked his way once more. “Does that bother you?” She shook her head before he could answer. “It’s okay if it does, it bothers everyone else who knows.” She didn’t know what she’d do if he thought her a monster. 

“I’m not… I don’t know. Does it bother you?” He looked concerned. 

“Not anymore.” Arya shrugged. “It is a means to an end, and I don’t intend to continue to do it forever, but...after this war with the Others, I intend to finish my list, and maybe I’ll use my faces to do that. After that, I won’t need it anymore.” 

Gendry nodded slowly. “That’s okay, then. I listened to you recite that list every night for a long time...it doesn’t change anything for me. I always knew you were scary.”

Arya felt like she could breathe properly for the first time since she’d heard his first question. She smiled at him, wanting to almost laugh at how light she felt. “So I was scary, but you were never scared of me?” 

“Well I knew,” he smiled back at her. “I hoped you’d never hurt me. But you were always a ferocious little lady.” 

Her smile widened. “Not a lady.”

Gendry let his eyes roam her up and down, and she was certain she’d never been looked at like that ever before. “Are you sure? You look like one.” There was something else in his voice, something new. 

The laughter she’d felt before was still there, but now she felt full of butterflies and she vaguely wondered if she was blushing. “I’m sure.” She stepped closer, intending to say more, when the door slammed opened. Arya quickly decided it didn’t matter who it was, it was time for her to leave. She nodded at Gendry and heard his soft goodbye as she left, turning to look at him one last time. 

————————

 

Arya didn’t often talk of personal matters with Sansa, and she hadn’t really had plans to start. There was so much more going on, and Arya knew her sister was stressed about the situation with the Dragon Queen on top of the war coming from the North. Sansa thought Daenerys was a brute and Arya agreed, to a point. Maybe she would be a good Queen, but the North was done dealing with any of it. As time passed, the Northern lords grew more distrustful of her, and Arya thought she didn’t do much to make it any less tense. 

But tonight, Arya didn’t want to talk about any of that. She knew Sansa had retired for the night when she knocked at her door. Sansa seemed surprised to see Arya on the other side, but said nothing, only opening the door wider to let her in the room. 

“Would you like wine?” 

“No.” 

Sansa watched her sister slowly walking her room, not really looking at her and not seeming to want to talk. “Is something wrong, Arya?” 

“No.” 

“Then, may I -“ she cut herself off as Arya abruptly dropped into one of her chairs. Sansa thought she looked more like herself in that moment than she had since she’d been home, or at least the self that Sansa remembered. 

“It’s stupid.” 

“What is?” 

“I… When… UGH!” Arya covered her face with her hands. “This is harder than I thought it’d be.” 

Sansa was suddenly hit with what seemed like such a ridiculous notion, it popped right out of her mouth. “Is this about a boy?” 

Arya dropped her hands. “Yes. No. He’s a man. Is it that obvious?” Based on the look on Sansa’s face, she had clearly not been expecting this. “If you laugh, I’m leaving!” 

Sansa took a great breath in and held it for a moment. “I am just surprised, is all. I…do you…?” Arya didn’t think she’d ever seen her sister flounder for words like this. It was a little entertaining, but mostly annoying. 

“It’s Gendry. The blacksmith.” 

“That Jon brought home, yes, I know who he is.” Arya watched Sansa’s brow furrow. “Is it… that is...he’s not been here long.” 

“I know him from before. We traveled together after - we left King’s Landing together.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? Is that it?” 

“Well what do you want me to say? I suppose he’s handsome enough -“ 

“It’s not about that!” 

“Well I don’t know, Arya!” Both sisters took a breath. “What is it about, then?” 

Arya stood and began pacing. “I don’t know! Why do you think I’m here? He’s stupid. And strong, and brave, and kind, and stupid.” She covered her face once more and spoke again. “And I like watching him work!” 

“Arya…”

She dropped her hands and sat down again. “He was…he looked out for me even before he found out I was a girl, and a ‘lady’. He was my best friend. I wanted to be his family.” 

“Does he return such feelings?” 

“I think? I’ve never had anyone look at me the way he does, Sansa. I enjoy it.” 

“Then you should be happy with him while you can be, however that is. We can’t know who will survive what’s coming.” Sansa’s somber face split into a smile as she spoke again. “You’re aware that generally, men and women who are not related are only considered family if they’re married?” 

Arya stood. “Alright, that’s enough for tonight!” She walked briskly towards the door, only stopping when she’d already gone halfway into the hall. She looked back. “Thank you, Sansa.” The door shut. 

 

——————————

 

She thought about her conversation with Sansa far more than necessary. When she saw him in the forge next, she brought him an idea, a request. He seemed happy enough to do it for her. Arya thinks of asking if he’d ever thought of marrying, if that’s what he’d thought of when she said she could be his family. It’d be stupid, she decided, so she didn’t. Besides, the way he looks at her, Arya wondered if she didn’t already have her answer. 

They’ve all known the war was coming, that the Night King and his army of wights were on the way, but when Tormund’s party arrives the next morning with their warning, Arya still doesn’t feel prepared. How could one ever be prepared for what was coming? She nearly burst into laughter when Sansa remarked that at least they wouldn’t have to feed the dragons and Queen’s Army much longer, one way or another. The day is spent in hurried preparations, because as much as people have been training, there are those who simply can’t fight. The very old, the very young, the ill. It was almost unanimously decided that Sansa would take charge of the group, that they’d barricade themselves in the strongest hold to wait the battle out. Arya herself claims the task of defending their home, Winterfell. She knows her skills are great, but they are not meant for an army. Protecting her home and the people left in it is something she is confident she can do. 

Jon would lead the massive armies on the front lines, while Daenerys wouls fly with her dragons, burning as many of the dead as she can before they reach their people. Arya is unsure how she’ll hold against the dragon the Night King took from her. She called them her children, and it worried Arya. 

Gendry intended on fighting, and she’s seen him training with his warhammer when he’s forced to take a break from the forge. He’s not as bad as she was worried he’d be, but she still can’t help the pit of dread in her stomach. For him, for her family, herself. Everyone. The forge fires are quiet now, and almost empty, as there is no time left for metal and glass to cool and temper. She finds him there once more, after the feast and just before the armies march. 

He didn’t smile when she walked in, and she hadn’t realized she’d gotten used to him doing it until he didn’t. They looked one another over for a moment. 

“I’m glad you’re staying here, inside the walls.”

“My strengths are better suited for it than open battle. It’s only practical. You, on the other hand…” Despite his skill, she worried for him. 

“I gave my hammer some dragonglass bits.” He shrugged. “And if I crumble their bones, they can’t walk, even if they won’t die.” He turned from her, grabbing a small spear leaning against his forge. He held it out to her. “I finished it this morning.”

Arya was surprised. “With everything else, I thought you wouldn’t have time.” She stepped closer, taking it from him to inspect her weapon. “It’s perfect.” 

Gendry flushed. “You came up with it.”

Arya stepped closer. “And you made it for me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I...should probably be joining the others now.” He gazed down at her, pupils going wide in the low firelight when she stepped even closer. They were almost touching. 

“One more thing.” 

Still clutching her new weapon in her hand, she brought the other up and against his heart once again. It pounded wildly under her palm. Moving it up, she curled her hand around him, and slowly raised up on her toes while exerting pressure to bring him down. Arya’s eyes closed as their lips touched, and she isn’t prepared. His hard muscle under her hand, his chapped lips beneath hers, it’s a revelation. Just as she went to fall back, Gendry surged forward just enough. Before she knows it, her hand and weapon are trapped between their bodies as Gendry’s big arms encircled her and pressed her to him, the staff pressing into the crease where her arm met her torso. He deepened the kiss and Arya felt exactly right. Her hand moved up once more, fingernails scratching at the base of his head, trying to grab onto hair that isn’t there anymore, trying to get closer. Gendry groaned, and their kiss broke. Neither moved for a moment, heads pressed close and trading breath. 

Finally, Arya eased back, though it was the last thing she wanted. She felt lit up from the inside out, skin hot even in the unnatural cold. Gendry’s face was flushed and she could only imagine hers matched. They smiled at one another, wide and without reservation. 

“Does this mean you’re my lady now?” 

Arya rolled her eyes and tried not to blush. “Only if you live.” 

Gendry’s smile grew softer. “You’ve always been m’lady, Arya. I’ll live.” 

 

——————————-

 

They both lived. Though the losses were great, Winterfell had withstood, and the armies of the living had prevailed. They were calling it the Battle of the Dawn. People were tired, and though they knew they would fight once more, Cersei’s army compared little to the dead. Word had spread throughout Westeros about Queen Daenerys and King Jon and the brave warriors who’d fought the dead. Once burials were over and rebuilding had begun, Jon declared there was to be a feast. It would honor those who died, and be a celebration of the triumph of life. 

Sansa was once again surprised by Arya when she asked her for a proper dress, to be ready in a week’s time. She hadn’t believed her at first. However, as Arya stood halfway through the feast and called attention to herself in a way she never had before, Sansa knew Arya had taken her words seriously. People had quieted rather quickly when they realized who it was that was speaking. 

“I have an announcement to make. Though I always said I’d never, in a week’s time, I am marrying!” 

The hall erupted into chaos. There was no other way to put it. Arya laughed, and downed the remainder of her wine. She ran to a table at the far left. She still laughed as she pulled Gendry to his feet, a dumbstruck look upon his face for all to see, and kissed him before she pulled him out of the hall altogether. 

She could still hear the commotion at the end of the passage, and she laughed harder for it. She didn't stop until she’d dragged Gendry into her room behind her and locked her door. 

Gendry still looked shocked. “Arya, what? What?” 

“I thought you wanted me to be your lady?”

“Of course I do! But you can’t just - just -“

“Why not? Who is going to stop me?”

“I - that’s not -“ 

“Are you really very surprised?”

“Yes!” 

“Are you refusing me, then?” For the first time, she looked away from him. Maybe she’d gotten it wrong. “It’s alright, if you want to. You can say no to this.” 

He stepped towards her, bringing one hand to settle at her waist and the other to her face, angling it up to look at him. 

“Of course I want to marry you. I just…” He leaned down to her, holding her tighter to him. “I just never thought I’d get the chance, Arya.” 

“Well you have it, so don’t mess it up.” She glared at him in warning as relief flooded through her. 

“As you wish, m’lady.”

**Author's Note:**

> I may do a connected one-shot focused on Jon, and maybe one for Sansa, if there's interest?


End file.
